Chapter 11

Tonks awoke to the sun in the middle of the sky shining brightly which meant that it has to be about noon or after. Her leg was asleep which didn't feel good at all considering the pins and needles effect went along with the throb. The bandage looked a little dirty. She sat up with her leg flat out and unraveled the bandage a little and saw that the wound was still there and still nasty.

Why wouldn't it be?

"It's never going to heal," she concluded aloud to herself. She wrapped the small piece back and stuffed it under.

Her stomach growled. She pouted her lips wondering if she would have the blame episode as earlier today or not.

Maybe something light would be easy on her stomach? She thought of crackers or toast but both didn't seem as appetizing as something decent like a meal like chicken, rice and potatoes.

Or something Mrs. Weasley would cook. One of her meals would make Tonks content and very, very happy.

At that thought her stomach growled an approval and she fell back on the bed sighing defiantly onto something hard. She pulled it out from under her and held the open book above her face and saw the title on the page, Icious.

But everything after that, the words published were so small and there was so much of Snape's small illegible writing it made everything look like squiggles and lines of an attempt at drawing.

She put the book over her face and stretched her arms over her head deciding what to do. She didn't know if Snape was home or not and didn't want to do heavy artillery; walking and breathing to make her feel like shit all over again. But she had to get up and move around; keep the blood flowing and maybe even feel better.

She rolled out of bed once her leg woke up and used a finger to hold the place of the part that it was opened to and wrapped a blanket around her. She left the room slowly, trudging in bare feet down the stairs until she saw Snape using a kitchen chair to get some books. He was flipping through one, really into it so she went in quietly and set the book onto the coffee table and laid on the couch curled on bend legs and her arms stuffed under her with the blanket around her whole body and head. The house gave off a chill even though it was summer.

The chill had to do with everything closed up so tight. At least the window in the bedroom was cracked open and the shade was pulled up. Maybe he was starting to realize that she needed sunshine and nobody was going to get him.

Paranoid.

"Did you read it?" he asked. He took the book and two more down and stepped off the chair.

"I could never read your comments on my essays I can't read them now. With your writing and the small script of the book it all looks like a jumbled mess to me. Can you read it to me?"

"Why?" he asked. He made busy with what he had to do. He always knew what he had to do.

"Because my eyes are tired and my head is foggy. I want to know what it says," she answered making no point to move. The walk down the steps was enough.

"Can you?" she asked.

He didn't respond so she said, "Just pretend we're back in class and you're trying to teach me."

"All you need is candy and bright, bright hair distracting the student behind you who is trying to focus." He sat himself down on the coffee table.

She felt like a kid because she felt like she was always getting her own way all the time when she wanted something subtle, or even if she didn't want it or ask for it he did something for her. Maybe he cared.

Not really.

He took the book off the table and looked down at it. She didn't have to look to see as she had lay down and made herself comfortable.

He read the part to her; the whole page actually and she listened, unlike all those times in his classroom.

"Why am I not surprised," she commented, "I mean she is powerful, I'll give her that, but crafty? I didn't think so."

"You give her more credit than you really should." He unwrinkled the page she accidentally laid on.

"Why?" she questioned incredulously. She opened her eyes to see him looking down at her.

"She is locked up after all so don't be so doubtful of your power."

Was that a compliment? She wasn't so sure because it was very rare, if at all. And though she agreed with him she couldn't just take the compliment from him. It would be great but she needed something to break that down, to see if there was more or if it was one of those rare sights.

"As you can see I got the short end of the straw," she indicated herself.

"As you haven't grasped yet, you will heal, she will rot."

Something about how he said it made her sit up and take notice. She kept watching him and he just remained as neutral as always except for the tiny glint in his eyes.

He knew that she had caught it otherwise it would have just rolled off of her and she would not have sat up.

She gave a twitch of puckered lips to indicate that she wasn't stupid and besides it was his business anyways; his dark, hard, probably painful past anyways.

He cleared his throat, "Like I said don't sell yourself short."

"Thanks, I think, I'll keep that in mind next time I'm throwing up on your floor," she commended with a smile of her own.

"There is the sink, toilet or even the tub."

"Where there is not enough time it goes everywhere," she emphasized knowingly from past experiences.

"I know," he bid, "I had to clean up everything," he mimicked her.

Okay, so what if he had to clean me, she thought now realizing that he wasn't just standing there when she came around. He must've cleaned her up before she woke up.

She locked eyes with him and he did the same until she laid right back down and covered herself completely.

"Surely you won't give up that easily?" he said, superiority clear in him.

"I don't feel well again," she answered honestly, It was the truth she felt very cold.

"Go back to sleep," he said.

"But I'm not tired," she answered in her cocoon.

"So close your eye," he stood up and went back to his work, "Pretend you're not here. I'm trying to."

"You know you like me here," she wiggled into a more comfortable position, "I bring life to this place."

"As in with your socks and hair I can turn off the light and still find my way without tripping over anything," he retorted on the other side of the room.

"Exactly," she agreed with a yawn she faced the inwards of the couch, "I still want to know who died."

"You in another minute if you keep asking that."

"I have friends who would look for me every which way they would go until I was found."

"If they knew where to look first."

"You just know how to make me feel safe with eyes closed-"

"And two hands tied," he finished.

She fell asleep in their silence. She didn't know if what he said was made up to scare her, make him look tough or be the truth. He didn't hurt her yet but the week was still young and she was so very weakened by illness and pain from a charm used to manipulate an injury on her body and soul.

She just hoped that she was safe and that he cared. If it was pretend so far she hoped he'd continue to have a heart, or whatever was there. She had to remember that he didn't have a heart; someone with a dark mark didn't have a heart.

Not one of them.

-

-

From that same nightmare she awoke sweating sprawled out in bed.

"Of course he carried me and I didn't wake up," she said a loud again in frustration. She was beginning to talk a loud to herself and wondered if he did the same. In a house like this with no one around the only company was yourself.

She didn't feel him life her or even change the bandage. She didn't need the one on her face anymore.

Her resolve was gone; she was losing the survival instinct. She couldn't tell when he was taken care of her. She felt so weak.

Tonks pulled the blanket around herself for the millionth time in the short amount of time that she was there and went downstairs. She heard him in the kitchen and went there and took a seat across from him crossing her legs on the chair and putting the blanket around her head. She clasped her hands in her lap.

Snape looked up from his food.

"How do you keep doing that?" she asked. She yawned frowning at herself. She hated that she was tired. She wondered if soon she was going to turn into a cat because of how much she slept.

"You're a dead sleeper who talks way too much in her sleep. I've told you before I don't want to know your personal life."

Her hands flew to her mouth. What could she have said? Too much? She hated that he was on top of everything and always knew ay too much. She hated that and felt anger inside, hidden, start to boil.

"What did I say?" she asked wanting to know the answer and not wanting to at the same time.

"Do you really want to know?" he asked with a real serious face.

"Yes," she nodded with fear. She had to cover it somehow so she said, "I want to know whether I'm lying or not, you know it could be mumble jumble just from dreams."

"You broke your mother's favorite ceramic mug and blamed it on your father, your muggle friend Tommy was so mean to you pulled his hair so hard you took chunks with you and you once fed tuna fish to ducks because your mother told you not to."

Her mouth dropped. So maybe she was having one too many one-sided conversations in her sleep and he had heard.

"So many I do talk too much like you once told me in detention."

"Yes."

"Well," she tried to save herself, "He got what was coming to him."

"I bet." He answered. He ate his food while she watched with satisfaction. She was still fascinated with the whole teachers have lives besides teaching in the classroom. She didn't think she'd ever get over it.

"Why are you staring? Do you want some?"

She shook her head in decline holding up a hand knowing her stomach couldn't handle it. "No, I'm not staring because I am hungry, it just doesn't cease to amaze me that you do normal things like cook."

"You are such a child, when are you going to grow up?"

"I don't know, maybe someday but not right now. You need to be very carefree in times like these, you know?"

"You mean careful?" he automatically corrected.

"Yeah," she said as an afterthought, "That too." She tapped her knuckles on the table three times, "Let me bathe then I'll clean or something. I don't know." She shrugged feeling just how tight her neck and shoulders were. She rolled them twice.

"Why?" he asked.

"I have to do something. If I wanted to do nothing I would've stayed with my mum and dad, you should feel special."

He gave her a ridiculous look and she burst out in giggles making herself feel a little better, a little of her mood lifted.

She stood up and even though she wobbled she headed into the next room and gingerly up the steps.